No Less Than Perfect
by DarkHorse313
Summary: Based on the Season 9 episode "Less Than Perfect". Blair's involvement in a car accident brings about unexpected life changes for herself and Jo.
1. Chapter 1

**No Less Than Perfect**

By DarkHorse

Chapter 1

* * *

 **Author's Note/Acknowledgements:** This story is based on the Season 9 episode "Less Than Perfect." After watching this episode for the first time in many years, I was struck by the richness of the Jo/Blair subtext it contains, and the idea of turning it into fan fiction took root and wouldn't let go.

My story assumes that everything leading up to this episode has happened exactly as it did on the show. It's February 1988; Jo has shed her former tomboy look and is dating Rick; Blair is dating Casey; and the four girls, along with Beverly Ann, Andy, and Pippa, are living under the same roof.

It's taken a long time for this story to see the light of day. Special thanks go to my spouse, for her unconditional love and support, for patiently tolerating my interest in this beloved 80's show, and for being my "Jo" all these years; my beta reader (you know who you are :) ) for her tireless encouragement and exceptional editor's eye; and my circle of fellow fan fic writers, who have kept me motivated and inspired. I hope you'll enjoy it.

 **A special note about Chapter 1:** This chapter reads like a novelization of the actual episode (though I've taken artistic license with some aspects – for example, Blair is more severely injured in my version). This was intentional on my part, for a couple reasons. First and foremost, I wanted to reveal the characters' thoughts and motivations as they experience the events depicted in the episode. Second, some readers may be unfamiliar with this episode, or haven't seen it in years, and because the events of this episode are the launching point for everything that happens thereafter, I felt the need to adhere closely to it. The spoken dialogue belongs to Howard Leeds, Ben Starr, Jerry Mayer, Dick Clair, Jenna McMahon, and Martha Williamson, all of whom were credited as writers on the episode; the characters' internal dialogue/thoughts are mine. Subsequent chapters will be primarily original material.

* * *

The slender, spiky-haired, middle-aged woman peered through the darkness as she padded her way downstairs in her nightgown and robe, with her reading glasses on and a book in her hand.

"Pippa, it's after midnight. You know what happens when you stay up this late. I get cranky!"

At the sound of Beverly Ann's gentle scolding, Pippa stirred from the far end of the sofa where she'd fallen asleep, still dressed in her Eastland school uniform. The young exchange student had been assigned to write a biography about a great American industrialist. She'd planned to interview her housemate, Blair Warner, about Blair's great-grandfather, the founder of Warner Textiles. Blair had graciously agreed, despite having a Contract Law exam the following morning, for which she'd already been studying all evening. However, before helping Pippa with her assignment, Blair had briefly left the house to give her boyfriend, Casey, a ride home. She'd promised Pippa she'd be back in a little while...

"I'm waiting for Blair," Pippa explained drowsily, as Beverly Ann settled next to her. "She's…" They both were startled by the sound of the front door suddenly being opened. They both turned as Pippa asked, "Blair?"

"No, it's me," came her housemate, Tootie's, cheery voice from the darkness. The young woman entered the living room and turned on the light as she asked, "What are you guys doing up so late?"

"Blair's going to help me with my homework as soon as she gets back from taking Casey home," Pippa responded.

"But that was over two hours ago," Beverly Ann remarked with concern. "That isn't like Blair at all."

Just then, the phone rang. Tootie strolled over to answer it. "I'll bet that's her now. She probably just ran out of gas or something." She picked up the receiver. "Yes? Yeah, this is her address."

Beverly Ann and Pippa gathered around Tootie, listening intently, as the young woman's tone and expression grew more serious. "She drives a red Porsche." A pause. "Oh God, no." Instinctively, Tootie's other hand went to the desk in front of her to steady herself. "Uh…yeah…uh…right away." She raised her hand, ran it through her hair and then braced herself against the desk again, taking a deep, shaky breath as she hung up the phone. Slowly, she turned to Beverly Ann and Pippa. "There's been an accident."

* * *

Jo Polniaczek paced agitatedly up and down the corridor, lost in thought, while her roommates remained in the waiting area. Natalie sat leafing listlessly through a magazine with one arm around Beverly Ann, who was seated beside her, while Tootie stood nearby, looking on helplessly. Pippa, along with Beverly Ann's adopted son, Andy, had gone off to the hospital cafeteria for snacks and coffee. There was nothing any of them could do except wait…and worry.

What they knew so far was that Blair had been brought in via ambulance, bloodied and unconscious, after being pried from her Porsche. The luxury car, having slammed into a tree at a relatively high speed, was totaled. Blair had been wearing a seatbelt, but it wasn't enough to protect her from the impact of the head-on collision. The emergency response team had been working on her for some time. "Too long," Jo thought grimly. The unspoken fear that hung heavily over Jo, and the others, surfaced and brought the sting of tears to Jo's eyes. "Damn it, Blair!" she whispered vehemently to herself.

Jo replayed that night's events again in her mind. The evening hadn't gotten off to a great start, now that she thought about it. Her boyfriend, Rick, a musician, had secured a gig for a local event that night, which left Jo without any particular plans. Seizing the opportunity, Natalie had talked her into seeing an absurd art house film that, in Jo's opinion, represented a couple hours of her life she'd never get back. Then, she and Natalie had returned home to find, in Jo's own words, an equally ridiculous situation: Blair and Casey close together on the sofa – Casey watching TV with the sound turned down and his arm around Blair, while Blair pored over her law books.

Jo hadn't been able to resist gleefully throwing a barb their way. Casey was her manager at the Hudson Valley Community Center and, over time, they'd developed mutual respect and a good working relationship. She and Blair had been roommates - and, she grudgingly admitted, friends – ever since their teenage years at Eastland. Still, Casey and Blair together, as a romantic couple? Jo shook her head. _How the hell did that even happen? They don't fit together. He's all wrong for her. What a joke!_

Since the lovebirds were both at the house anyway, Jo had decided it was a good opportunity to have both of them look over the childcare budget for the center. The Warner Foundation had recently paid off the center's mortgage and was generously providing ongoing support for day-to-day operations, so, in addition to Casey's consent, Jo needed Blair's approval on any proposed expenditures. Blair had protested that she was too tired, but Jo had spent plenty of late nights putting those figures together, and it was hard enough to find a spare moment with either Blair or Casey these days, let alone both of them together.

After insisting it would only take a few minutes, Jo had headed upstairs to grab the folder from her desk. She returned to find Casey on his way out the door, offering her a weak apology. Frustrated, Jo could only stand by and watch as Casey and Blair put on a sappy goodbye display, with Casey planting kisses on Blair's forehead, the tip of her perky nose, and finally, her lips, while Blair blushed and bashfully grinned like a schoolgirl in the midst of her first crush. _"Can't he figure out where your mouth is?"_ Jo had asked in disgust after Casey left.

And then, just as abruptly, he was back. Casey's car, which had long since seen better days, had once again failed to start. Blair, who looked as if little pink hearts might shoot out of her eyes, had rushed to his side as he reached for the phone, and offered to give him a lift home. He initially refused, noting that she needed her rest. Jo, still feeling a bit of revulsion from the scene she'd just witnessed, had hesitated only a moment before stepping in with what she felt was an obvious solution. _"Why don't I just take a look at it?"_

But Blair had brushed Jo's offer aside – twice – with a bubbly insistence that she could simply drive Casey home herself. And then Natalie, smirking, had chimed in with, _"Jo, what size building has to fall on you?"_ Jo responded by shooting Natalie a long, dark glare. Blair had walked out the door, Casey in tow, while promising Pippa she'd be back soon to be interviewed.

"So much for that," Jo thought sorrowfully.

* * *

Casey's arrival snapped Jo out of her reverie. He was breathless, and anxious for news about Blair. Tootie quickly brought him up to speed on the situation. Jo noted that the otherwise healthy young man was still having difficulty catching his breath. She reached out and touched his arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Casey replied, looking down at his feet. "I just had to run all the way over, cuz my car…" he explained, trailing off as a realization dawned on him. "My _car_. I should have had that damned car fixed weeks ago! Why did I let her drive me home? I knew she was tired!" He turned away, seething with guilt, anger, and helplessness.

A vicious retort flashed through Jo's mind, but she wisely thought better of it. Now wasn't the time for either finger-pointing or self-recrimination, even though she'd been inwardly engaged in plenty of both on this night – not that she'd admit it to anyone. Her reasonable side winning out, Jo turned to the young man with as much sympathy as she could muster. "Casey, she wanted to. Nobody was gonna stop her."

Casey appeared not to have heard her. Agitated, he exclaimed loudly, "Where are those doctors? Why don't we know anything yet?"

"She's in emergency! They're working on her!" Jo replied sharply, her hands gesturing in exasperation. They all sounded like broken records. Blair was in there, in what condition God only knew, and there was nothing – not a damn thing – that Jo or any one of them could do to help her. Not for the first time that night, Jo wanted to put her fist though a wall – or, at this particular moment, Casey's face.

But then, Casey seemed to shift gears, stuffing his hands back into his jeans pockets and turning to Jo with a pensive expression. "You know, I sat in front of a TV set for two hours and watched without sound, just to be around her for a while."

Jo could relate to that. Blair's presence in a room was magnetic. Jo softened at that thought, and smiled sadly at Casey. "That's not so bad."

"It was a symphony," Casey laughed gently. Jo kept her head down, those damned tears threatening to fall again, as she desperately tried to hold it together. "What is it about her?" he continued. "She's vain, selfish, shallow…she's a snob…she expects everything to go her way."

Jo shook her head lightly, her face breaking into a knowing grin. "And it usually does."

"So why do we care so much?"

Jo paused and looked up to meet his eyes. "Because she's Blair," she stated simply. "And there's nobody else like her."

 _Blair._ Casey was right about her, of course. She could be an annoying, condescending, self-centered, privileged thorn in Jo's side, and Jo had greatly relished the opportunity to knock her down a few pegs, when needed. There had been an untold number of such opportunities over the years. Blair just made it all too easy at times.

Then again, maybe Blair had intentionally given her those openings. And frankly, she'd more than held up her own end of their verbal sparring matches. The gorgeous blonde may have projected an air of shallowness to the world – all beauty and no substance – but Jo knew that Blair was intelligent, witty, and far more complex than she usually let on. She'd surprised Jo time after time with her generosity, compassion, and loyalty. Whenever the chips were truly down, Blair had been there in Jo's corner.

They were both young adults now, their time together waning, as the inevitable tides of life would soon sweep them away to the careers, marriages, and families of their own that no doubt awaited them in the not-so-distant future. Jo realized that she'd miss day-to-day life with this young woman who had, in the unlikeliest manner, become her friend…her _best_ friend. And if Blair was leaving her, and all of them, behind permanently? Jo felt her stomach painfully knot up. The truth was, she couldn't imagine a day without Blair.

Once again, Jo was jolted from her thoughts as Pippa and Andy returned to the waiting room, bearing Styrofoam cups filled to the brim. "Here you go, everybody . . . coffee," Pippa announced, as she and Andy began handing out the piping hot beverages to their exhausted housemates.

At that moment, a dark-haired, bespectacled physician called out, "Warner!" reading the name off his medical charts as he rounded the corner. He jerked his head up, startled, as seven figures immediately converged on him from all sides, impatiently awaiting his report. "I'm Dr. Nichols," he introduced himself, looking around curiously at the motley crew gathered before him. "Blair is a very lucky young woman. She's going to be okay." His rapt audience breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"She has several broken ribs, and she's severely bruised," Dr. Nichols continued. "She also sustained some trauma to the head. There are indications of a concussion, so we'll want to keep her under observation for a few days."

"When can we see her?" Jo asked.

"Well, she's sleeping now, so it'll be a while before she wakes up, and then she probably won't be in a very good mood," the doctor warned.

"It's okay. We're used to that," Natalie replied with a smile.

"Thank you, doctor. That's good news," exclaimed Beverly Ann. Dr. Nichols nodded, and walked away to attend to his other patients. Beverly Ann began collecting her coat and purse. "Well, I suggest we all go home and get some sleep, too."

"Lord, what a night," Tootie remarked, as everyone gathered their belongings. She lingered a moment to wait for Jo, who had driven separately from the rest of the group.

Jo recalled that Casey had no way home. "Need a lift?" she asked him.

"No thanks…no lifts," he laughed. "I'll walk." He turned and made his way down the corridor toward the front entrance of the hospital.

Jo threw an arm around Tootie, and the two friends walked side by side in silence as they followed their housemates out to the parking lot. Despite the immense relief she felt upon the doctor's assurance that Blair would recover, Jo couldn't shake the nagging urge to see for herself that Blair was alive. Born and raised in the Bronx, and a member of the Young Diablos street gang in her pre-Eastland days, Jo Polniaczek wasn't easily rattled. However, tonight's experience with Blair had scared the hell out of her.

As they exited the building into the cool night air, Jo hesitated. "Uh, Tootie…I forgot something. You go ahead. I'll meet you guys back at the house."

"Okay. See you in a few," the young woman replied.

After watching Tootie catch up to the rest of the group, Jo headed back inside the hospital. She stopped at the nurses' station to ask about Blair's room number, and then surreptitiously made her way down the hall, mindful it was well past visiting hours. Jo paused outside Blair's room, and when she was certain no one was watching, cracked the door just enough to poke her head in.

Blair was alone and asleep in the dark room. Jo gingerly stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. A lump rose in her throat as she took in the scene before her, which was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows. Blair's beautiful face was badly bruised and swollen, and there was a large bandage covering her forehead. Her luxurious, golden blonde hair had been combed straight back, away from her face. She was dressed in a powder blue hospital gown, with the bedcovers pulled up to just below her neck, and she was receiving IV fluids through a needle. Jo braced herself and swallowed hard before solemnly moving to the side of the bed, her fingers reaching out to gently stroke the blonde's arm through the thin blanket and sheet. " _God, Blair, please be okay,"_ Jo silently pleaded.

Jo stood for endless moments beside Blair, who looked shockingly broken and helpless. Finally, Jo took a deep breath to steady herself, and slowly backed away from the bed, intending to leave as quietly as she'd entered.

A small, shaky voice called out to her through the darkness. "Jo?"

Jo instantly turned back toward Blair, who had stirred and seemed to be trying hard to focus on her. A big, happy grin spread across Jo's face. "You know, there's a maple tree on Park Street that doesn't like you very much," she quipped, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah? Well, it had quite a nerve waking me up like that," Blair responded, her voice hoarse and weak. Slowly and painfully, she lifted herself up slightly, into a more comfortable position. "You know the worst part about falling asleep at the wheel? I didn't get to see my whole life pass before my eyes."

"Well, _that_ would've killed you for sure."

Blair chuckled at that, then winced, involuntarily drawing one hand up to her mouth.

"Oh…sorry," Jo said gently. "Probably shouldn't talk."

"No, no, no…I want to," Blair assured her. "Um…can you turn on a light?"

"Yeah." Jo reached up and turned on the reading lamp over Blair's bed, then sat back down.

Blair laced her fingers together, resting her hands on her chest. She looked Jo squarely in the eye. "I want you to tell me what I look like. No jokes."

Jo sucked in a breath, collecting her thoughts. "Well, uh, you're pretty bruised up. You have a bandage on your forehead. Fat lip." She shrugged lightheartedly. "I like it!"

"You have a mirror?" Blair asked. Then, in a droll tone, she added, "Look who I'm asking."

Jo smiled at her, pleased that her friend's sense of humor seemed intact. "You're gonna be fine – trust me, there's nothin' to see."

Hesitating briefly, Blair changed the subject. "Would you mind filling my water pitcher for me?"

"No…sure," Jo agreed. She stood, collecting the pitcher from the stainless steel tray on Blair's bedside table, and headed toward the bathroom.

The moment Jo was out of sight, Blair reached for the tray, pulling it onto her lap and using it to view her reflection. Her eyes widened as she surveyed the damage. Slowly, she pulled the bandage from the tender, inflamed skin, screwing her eyes shut in a grimace of pain as she did so. She opened her eyes to see a very deep, ugly, swollen gash running across her forehead. It was sewn together with large, visible stitches, and it extended from her right temple to a spot above the inner corner of her right eyebrow.

When Jo returned, she found Blair staring at her reflection in horror. Jo moved closer, set the pitcher down on Blair's table, and, for the first time, saw the severe laceration on her friend's forehead. Blair looked up at Jo with a devastated, agonized expression, and unshed tears glistening in her eyes. In all the years she had known Blair, Jo had never witnessed a look like that on the blonde's face. It tore at Jo's heart. A single tear rolled down Blair's cheek as she gamely asked, "Guess I'd better cancel my facial today, you think?"

Jo managed a small smile. "Maybe," she said cautiously, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, never taking her eyes off Blair.

Blair sniffled, unconsciously raising her arms protectively over her chest. "I suppose I ought to cry…or scream…or something. I don't feel like it." She hugged herself. "Funny, huh?"

The dissonance between Blair's words and body language was alarming. Jo carefully considered her response. "Look…Blair…ya know, I'm sure it's not as…as bad as it looks…right now."

Blair appeared lost in her own thoughts. "When I was six years old," she began, "my mama bought me this little white dress, and it had this little white hat, and these little white gloves, and little white shoes. I looked…perfectly…perfect." Tears were streaming down the blonde's face now. "She told me…she told me…be very careful, and not get dirty, because _one spot_ could ruin the whole outfit." The metaphor wasn't lost on Jo, who looked on, not liking where this was headed.

"I was so careful," Blair continued, her voice cracking.

"Blair," Jo interrupted, shaking her head slightly.

But the wealthy young woman was growing more agitated by the second. "All it takes is one slip, one second, and your whole life changes…forever!" she spat out bitterly.

A flash of anger erupted within the brunette at Blair's utter lack of regard for the fact that she was still breathing, much less still capable of coherent thought and speech. Gathering herself, Jo spoke in as measured a tone as she could muster. "You know, it coulda changed a lot more." She paused to let that sink in. "The doctor said you were very lucky."

"He didn't tell anyone about this?"

"No."

"Where's Casey?" Blair demanded suddenly, her eyes darting around the room.

" _Should've known you'd bring_ _ **him**_ _up_ ," Jo petulantly thought. "Look, everybody left a little while ago. I'm not even supposed to be here," she explained, irritated. "You know, you should really put that bandage back on your head."

Blair ignored her, desperately pleading, "Jo, you've got to promise me you won't let anyone know about this."

"What?!" came the incredulous response.

"I…I want to tell people on my own . . . in my own time."

The brunette stood up from her perch on the edge of the bed. In a gentler voice, she replied, "Come on, Blair, this is not the end of the world. You're _gonna_ heal. And besides, there's always the plastic surgeon. Don't you Warners keep one of them on retainer?"

Blair avoided her friend's attempt to lighten the mood. "Jo," she stated gravely, "you've got to promise me you won't tell anyone."

The tip of Jo's tongue darted out to lick her lower lip, an unconscious gesture that was a sure sign she was serious about her next words. "I promise." She looked down at her feet, uncomfortable with the emotions swirling once again in her gut. "Alright, look, I'm gonna go. Get some rest, okay?"

Blair nodded and waved absently, as Jo exited and shut the door behind her. Alone once again, the blonde sorrowfully studied her reflection in the stainless steel tray. Then she abruptly flung the tray from her lap as hard as she could, given her condition. As it hit the floor on the opposite side of the room with a loud metallic clatter, Blair Warner held one hand to her head and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

* * *

The following morning, Blair's hospital room bustled with activity. Beverly Ann and Natalie were rushing about, toting and arranging a seemingly endless stream of flowers and get-well cards arriving from all the young heiress' society peers, friends, and admirers. The blonde was chatting animatedly on the phone, sitting up in bed as Tootie gently fluffed the pillows behind her. "No, mother, no…stay in San Moritz," Blair begged. "I'm alright." Unable to dissuade her mother from visiting, Blair resignedly handed the phone to Beverly Ann, who confirmed that she would pick Monica Warner up from the airport as soon as her flight arrived.

"Blair, you know what might make you feel better? How about if I brush your hair," Tootie suggested, eyeing her friend's uncharacteristically disheveled locks.

"Don't bother," Blair replied, waving her off. "It matches the rest of me."

There was a light knock on the door, and Natalie opened it, greeting Casey warmly as he strode in with a get-well card in his hand. Understanding that Casey wanted some time alone with Blair, the other three women left the room, leaving Blair shifting awkwardly in her bed, scrunching down and trying unsuccessfully to hide the bandage that Casey was certain to notice.

* * *

Later that evening, Jo returned home from a very full day at the community center, tired and hungry. Casey had never shown up to relieve her, and she'd had to work late, until closing. Apparently, she'd missed an "amazing" dinner – Natalie's words – cooked by Tootie, who had managed to put together a surprisingly edible meal. She also discovered, from Beverly Ann, that Casey had shown up at the hospital that morning to visit Blair.

The doorbell rang, and Jo answered it. _"Speak of the devil,"_ she thought, as Casey walked in. He asked to speak with Jo privately. She assumed that he had spoken with Blair about the forehead laceration, and that Blair had made him promise to keep it a secret, too. As it turned out, that wasn't the case.

Blair had broken up with Casey and, when pressed for a reason, she had come up with one unlikely excuse after another, finally implying that she didn't want to continue a relationship with someone so far below her own social class. Casey, blindsided and hurt by Blair's sudden change of attitude, had stormed out of the hospital and spent most of the day wandering aimlessly around the city, trying to make sense of what had happened. He finally settled on the theory that the heiress blamed him for the car accident. "She probably should," he sadly told Jo.

Jo felt a pang of guilt at that last statement. She knew better than to believe that Blair blamed Casey for the accident, but the truth was, _Jo_ blamed him - not only for his flagrant lapse in judgement, but for the maddening and inexplicable fact that Blair couldn't seem to spend a minute away from him. Jo didn't spare herself, either, believing that she should have pressed harder to have a look at Casey's piece-of-crap car, or else gone over to Casey's place and dragged Blair out of there before the blonde lingered too long and then took it upon herself to drive home in her sleep-deprived state.

Now, however, none of that mattered. Jo faced the uncomfortable choice of either telling Casey the truth – potentially allowing him and Blair to salvage their relationship – or keeping her promise to her best friend. She excused herself under the pretense of getting a glass of water, and made her way to the kitchen, where Tootie and Natalie were still cleaning up after dinner.

"Hey, guys."

"Hi," Tootie replied. She and Natalie both noticed Jo's troubled demeanor.

"Look, I need some advice," Jo admitted.

Tootie and Natalie looked at one another. "From who?" Tootie asked.

"From you," Jo emphasized, making a face at the silly question. "Both of you."

The two younger women were thrilled. "Okay!" "Sure!" Grinning eagerly, they threw down their dish towels and rushed to join Jo at the kitchen table.

"Have you ever known me to break a promise?" Jo asked them.

"Never!" Tootie replied.

"One of the all-time great promise keepers," Natalie added.

"You know _why_ I never break a promise?" Jo asked. Then she answered herself. "Because it's the wrong thing to do."

Tootie considered this. "When do we get to the advice part?"

"Now." Jo let out a breath. "Hypothetically speaking, if you make a promise to help a friend, but it ends up hurting that friend, then isn't it better to break that promise, because then you're really helping, which is why you made the promise in the first place?"

Natalie shot Tootie a sideways glance. "Tootie, are you throwing your voice?"

Tootie rolled her eyes at Natalie, then looked at Jo with an understanding expression. "Do we _know_ this friend?"

"I can't answer that," Jo replied.

Natalie smiled at Jo. "Well, it just seems to me that you should do whatever you can to help Blair out. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Even if it means she might not forgive me?" The question was left unanswered. There was really nothing Natalie and Tootie could tell her to provide reassurance, but Jo's mind was made up. She tapped the table in front of her two friends as a way of saying thanks, and headed back to the living room where Casey was waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

**No Less Than Perfect**

By DarkHorse

Chapter 2

The early morning light streamed in through the kitchen window, and Jo's gaze fell upon the calendar that was hanging on the wall. _Two weeks ago yesterday._ She shook her head slightly, briefly returning her attention to the bacon in the frying pan, which was rapidly becoming crispy. The brunette quickly removed the bacon slices from the pan and placed them on a plate lined with paper towels, retaining some of the drippings in the pan. She then popped two pieces of toast in the toaster and cracked two eggs into the frying pan.

Jo's mind wandered – that seemed to happen a lot lately – as she watched the eggs cook. Her thoughts drifted to the aftermath of the conversation she'd had with Natalie and Tootie in this very room, the evening after Blair's accident. After learning the truth from Jo, Casey had gone straight to the hospital and confronted Blair about the real reason she'd broken it off with him, eventually convincing her that her injury made no difference in how he perceived her, and, in the process, letting it slip that he loved her. Blair had confessed that she loved him, too, and, just like that, the two of them had kissed and made up. Jo mentally rolled her eyes at that thought, moving the spatula underneath the side of one egg, and deciding that it wasn't quite ready to be flipped.

Reconciling with Casey also meant that Blair had forgiven Jo for spilling her secret, even if the blonde _had_ threatened to kill her at one point. _"Guess that's something,"_ Jo mused to herself as she continued to keep an eye on the eggs. Blair's spirits had lifted even further after her mother arrived and arranged for Dr. Andrew Westfield - one of the top plastic surgeons in the country - to perform the cosmetic surgery on Blair's forehead. The wealthy young woman had been certain that following the surgery, she'd be restored to her former, "perfect" appearance.

Jo's mouth was set in a frown as she flipped the eggs, remembering the flash of bitter disappointment on Blair's face after the blonde's consultation with Dr. Westfield. The surgeon had explained that he could improve the appearance of the laceration, but a long, white scar would remain…a permanent reminder for Blair of a night she desperately wished to forget. True to form, the young woman had kept her chin up, putting on a show for her mother's benefit. The day after Blair's surgery, however, Monica had returned to San Moritz, explaining that she needed to get back to Blair's little half-sister, Bailey, who'd been left in the care of a nanny.

" _Why not just send for the kid...and the nanny?"_ Jo thought as she plated the eggs. Monica loved Blair, but she'd never been a particularly nurturing mother. Jo suspected that overseeing the completion of her daughter's plastic surgery had been Monica's primary motivation for sticking around as long as she had.

The toast popped up, and Jo gingerly grabbed the hot slices, quickly buttering them and cutting each piece in half diagonally. She poured a mug of fresh coffee and a cup of orange juice, and set them on a breakfast tray on the kitchen counter. Adding a generous serving of bacon to the eggs and toast, the brunette placed the plate on the tray, alongside the beverages. Jo glanced at a floral arrangement on the kitchen table as she gathered silverware and a napkin. Making a quick decision, she retrieved a small, thin crystal vase from the cupboard, filled it with water, and plucked a pink carnation from the floral arrangement, depositing it in the vase and adding the vase to the tray. She picked up the tray and, balancing it carefully, moved into the living room and up the staircase.

"Blair?" Jo called, poking her head through their bedroom door, which she'd left open a crack. "Breakfast." She entered the room and walked over to Blair's bed, where the blonde was laying with her head and shoulders propped up on thick pillows. Jo gently deposited the tray on Blair's lap, ensuring that the tray's legs were in a stable position on either side.

"Thank you, Jo, but you didn't have to go to all this trouble. I told you earlier, I'm not very hungry."

"Blair, ya _gotta_ eat something," Jo stated firmly. "You need to keep your strength up. Besides, if you don't at least try it, you won't be able to make any wisecracks about my cooking."

Blair sighed audibly, and shifted slightly in the bed. "Alright." She unfolded the napkin and placed it carefully on her lap, then picked up the fork.

Jo sat down on the side of the blonde's bed, silently watching as her roommate began to pick listlessly at the eggs. The deep bruises and swelling from the accident were starting to fade from Blair's face, although her forehead was once again red and angry from the recent plastic surgery. She drew in shallow breaths as she ate, something that concerned Jo, because the doctor had warned Blair that she could be at risk of developing pneumonia.

Prior to her departure, Monica had suggested hiring a nurse, but Blair had flat-out refused, assuring her mother that this was unnecessary. However, when it became obvious that Blair continued to struggle with pain, stiffness, and limited mobility following her release from the hospital, Jo had become her primary caretaker. Ostensibly, this was because the brunette had the most flexible schedule of any of Blair's roommates, and, given the circumstances, Casey had been willing to cover most of Jo's shifts at the community center. Yet the entire household also recognized, just as Natalie and Tootie had on the night they'd spoken with Jo in the kitchen, that Blair and Jo shared an especially deep bond of friendship and trust…a bond that meant they'd be there for each other in times of need, without being asked, even when the other was at far less than her best.

At the moment, though, Blair wasn't feeling especially grateful for Jo's presence. "Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat?" she asked irritably. "Why don't you go downstairs and have breakfast?"

"I grabbed a bowl of cereal earlier," Jo replied. "Figured I'd let you go back to sleep for a bit. You know, you're gonna need to get out of this room sometime, Blair. It may as well be today."

"I'm _so_ tired, Jo. And everything hurts. I'd rather stay here today…I'll come downstairs when I feel a little better." Blair picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite.

"That's what you said yesterday," Jo reminded her, with a pointed gaze.

Blair narrowed her eyes, shooting daggers at the brunette, and took a sip of coffee. The liquid went down the wrong way, triggering a coughing spasm. She winced in pain, quickly set the cup back down on the tray, and brought the napkin to her mouth, cradling her chest with her other arm.

Jo grabbed a small pillow and handed it to Blair, who held it against her chest as she continued coughing.

Finally, the blonde stopped coughing. She wiped the tears from her red, watery eyes and looked at Jo with a weary, defeated expression. Blair was tired of experiencing the lingering pain in her chest and back every time she inhaled, tired of everyone asking her how she was doing, and most of all, tired of seeing that damned, ugly cut on her head. Everything, even eating, just seemed to be too much effort. She didn't want to go downstairs, didn't want to be on display…she wanted to be left alone.

Jo recognized that expression on her roommate's face. It was one she'd seen many times before, on the faces of some of the clients at the community center. She felt an uncomfortable lump rise in her throat as she gazed back at Blair. "Let's concentrate on one thing at a time. Eat your breakfast. Try to finish as much as you can, okay? I'm gonna go get your bath ready." She reached out and quickly patted Blair's leg, then stood up and headed for the bedroom door.

Blair turned her attention back to her tray, and her gaze fell upon the crystal vase containing the pink carnation. She smiled softly, and then glanced up at her friend.

"Jo?" Blair called out, as the brunette reached for the door knob.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

"C'mon, Blair, DEEP BREATHS!" Jo barked, channeling her field hockey coach back at Eastland. Blair had bathed and dressed, and now she was sitting on her bed, with Jo standing nearby.

"I'm… _trying_ ," Blair wheezed. "It just hurts so much." She inhaled as deeply as she could, holding the breath for as long as she could tolerate, and then released it, waiting a few seconds before repeating the process.

"You gotta push through it, Blair. Trust me, you don't want pneumonia. Not on top of everything else you're already dealing with."

Blair continued working through her breathing exercises, doing her best to ignore the discomfort. Jo insisted that Blair complete these exercises at least twice a day. The blonde knew it was for her own good, but she detested it. Therefore, she was relieved when the phone rang.

Jo walked over to the desk and picked up the receiver. "Hello? Oh, hey, Rick."

Blair turned her attention to one of the magazines on her nightstand, gingerly reaching for it and absently flipping through the pages. She didn't necessarily dislike Rick – after all, she reasoned, he treated Jo very well, volunteered at the community center, and could even be considered handsome, in his own way. However, Rick was also a perpetual clown, appearing to take nothing seriously. Also, despite being a classically-trained pianist, he couldn't seem to find steady work, aside from the occasional gig. Blair felt that at 30 years old, Jo's boyfriend should have been more settled and more mature. " _Not to mention saner_ ," she thought to herself, shaking her head.

Jo hung up the phone and made her way back to Blair's bedside. "Hey…Rick and I are going out tonight. I know Tootie has rehearsal, but Nat and Beverly Ann should be around. If you want, I can fix dinner for you before I go."

"It's fine, Jo. I'm sure I'll manage. Besides, you've been spending enough time with me lately. I'm surprised you've tolerated me this long."

"I've put up with you for the past eight years," Jo quipped. "Why stop now?" She chuckled to herself as Blair, predictably, rolled her eyes. "So…ready to get out of here?"

"No," the blonde replied. "But since you won't stop badgering me about it, I suppose I have no choice."

"C'mon," Jo urged. "You can't hide out here forever. And you need to start moving around more, anyway."

"Fine – you win," Blair replied, a bit peevishly. Jo placed an arm around her, carefully supporting her as the heiress cautiously stood up. Slowly, they made their way across the room, through the doorway, and down the stairs.

* * *

"Was it something I said?"

"Huh?" Jo looked sheepishly at her dinner companion. "Sorry, Rick. I was just wondering how Blair's doing. You know, being stuck at home, eating Beverly Ann's cooking and all." She tried to play it off as a momentary lapse of attention, but the truth was, the blonde had been intruding on her thoughts all evening.

Rick gallantly fished in his pocket for a quarter, and handed it to Jo with a flourish and a smile. "We still have some time before the movie starts."

"Thanks." She returned his smile, then got up and made her way to the pay phone in the restaurant lobby.

* * *

Natalie picked up the phone. "Hello? Oh, hi, Jo!"

Blair perked up from her spot on the sofa.

"I thought you were out with Rick," Natalie went on, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Is everything okay? Hold on." She moved the phone closer to Blair, and handed her the receiver. "She wants to talk to you."

Blair took the phone. "Hi, Jo."

" _Hey…figured I'd check in and see how everything's going."_

A smile lit up Blair's face. "It's very sweet of you to be concerned about me. I'm fine."

" _Yeah…well…anyway, I'll see you later, right after the movie,"_ came the awkward reply. _"Want me to bring you anything?"_

"No, no…go ahead and have a good time. I'll see you tonight."

" _Okay, Blair. Bye."_

Blair shook her head slightly as she handed the phone back to Natalie, the smile never leaving her lips.

Natalie looked at her curiously. "So, Jo thinks I make an incompetent nurse, huh?" she joked.

"I'm sure that's not what she meant," the blonde assured her, chuckling slightly. "But I _am_ feeling tired. Would you mind helping me upstairs?"

Natalie moved over to Blair's side and threw an arm around her to help her stand. "Actually, Jo's right. You barely touched your dinner…if she were here, she would've made you eat. Do you want a snack?"

"Thanks, Natalie, but I'm really not very hungry."

* * *

Jo pulled away a little from Rick's embrace. "I should get going. I need to be up early tomorrow."

"Are my kisses that bad?" Rick joked. "Don't forget, practice makes perfect!" He leaned in again, and Jo obliged him for a few moments. As they kissed, Rick slowly slid one hand down the length of Jo's side, over her hip, and across the top of her leg, where his fingertips disappeared beneath the hem of her knit sweater dress, lightly brushing the skin along the inside of her thigh. She stiffened, and moved away from him again.

"Rick, I really need to go. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright. I understand." Rick loved Jo, and respected her wishes, but lately, he was feeling frustrated about not being able to spend as much time with her as he would have liked. Between her taking care of her friend, Blair, and her work at the community center, she was rarely free for dates anymore. There wasn't much physical contact between them, either, aside from these all-too-brief make-out sessions. He sighed as he watched Jo pull on her coat, exit the car, and walk up the path to her door, where she gave him a short wave goodbye as he backed down the driveway.

Jo turned the key in the lock and opened the door to find Beverly Ann and Natalie watching TV and eating popcorn. "Hey, guys."

"How was the movie?" Beverly Ann inquired.

"More importantly, how's Rick?" Natalie asked, grinning.

" _Stand and Deliver_ was great," Jo replied. "You should go see it if you have a chance. Rick's fine."

"Did he drive off yet? You should invite him in," Beverly Ann offered. "It's been a while since we've seen him."

"He needed to get back home," Jo told them. "And I'm a little tired, so I'm going to hit the sack. Is Blair asleep?"

"I think so," Natalie answered. "I helped her get ready for bed right after you called. Don't get mad at me, but she didn't eat much for dinner."

"I'm worried about Blair," Beverly Ann remarked. "She seems awfully thin. And she doesn't want to do anything but look at magazines and watch TV. I don't think she's picked up any of her law books since the accident."

"Yeah, and she's always in a t-shirt and sweatpants… _sweatpants_!" Natalie chimed in. "I mean, who ever thought Blair Warner would be seen in daylight dressed in anything but designer clothes? And with her hair in a ponytail, and no makeup?"

Jo removed her coat and sat down on the arm of the sofa. "I know. She's dealing with a lot right now. I'm working on it. In the meantime, don't let her stay in her room too long, and we've got to try to keep her busy. Sitting around isn't going to help her - she needs to move to get her strength back. That should help with her appetite, too."

"What if that doesn't work?" Natalie questioned.

"It _has_ to," Jo said with conviction. Privately, she knew there was a possibility Blair might require intensive therapy, and maybe even some kind of medication, but she hoped it wouldn't come to that. Blair would likely resist any professional help, beyond whatever Jo herself could offer as a friend and social worker in training. She resolved to do whatever she could to help Blair get through this darkness.

Jo hung up her coat in the closet, said goodnight to her housemates, and walked quietly upstairs. She gently turned the knob on the bedroom door, so as not to wake Blair, but was surprised to find the blonde sitting awake in bed, her reading light on.

"Hey," Jo greeted her. "I didn't think you'd be awake. Nat said you went to sleep early tonight."

"I think I dozed off for a while, but I kept waking up," Blair replied. "Did you have a good time at the movie?"

"Yeah. It was really well done…they got some of it right, for once. The characters reminded me a little of myself, when I first started at Eastland, you know? And it also reminded me that it's worth it to keep fighting for the kids at the community center."

Blair smiled fondly at Jo. The brunette wore her heart on her sleeve, and her passion for sticking up for the underdog was coming through very clearly. There was a light in Jo's eyes as she animatedly spoke of the film and its relevance to her work.

"Well, I always knew you had potential, Jo," Blair remarked. "And I believe in the community center, too. You and Casey helped show me that it was a cause worth supporting."

" _Casey. She just had to mention him,"_ Jo thought. She considered, though, that it could be an opening for a conversation she needed to have with Blair.

"Speaking of Casey, do you have any plans with him this week? I know he hasn't been able to visit much, because he's been covering for me. I'll talk with him tomorrow and see if I can start taking on a few more shifts again. And you can start getting back into your regular routine."

The blonde sighed and looked at her hands. "I'll admit I've been feeling guilty about not spending more time with him. And you've hardly had any time to spend with Rick lately, either. But I just don't have any energy, Jo. I'm tired, and my ribs still ache. I…need to wait…just a little longer. I'm not ready yet."

"Blair, we need to get something out in the open," Jo began, gently but firmly. "It's been over two weeks since your accident. Your body should be starting to heal, but you won't eat and you won't follow the doctor's orders to get up and move around. You sit in here all day long, and now that you've finally made it downstairs, you sit around down there, too. You're ignoring Casey and everyone else, except me, and that's only because I'm pushing you. If you don't get caught up on your coursework pretty soon, you'll have to take a leave of absence from law school and repeat the semester. And I'm not gonna let that happen, not if I can help it."

Blair's jaw dropped. As the shock of Jo's words subsided, she felt a wave of indignation and resentment build inside her. "How _dare_ you," she began. "You can't _possibly_ understand how I'm feeling…you're accusing me of being lazy!"

"That's not what I'm saying. And you're right, I can't put myself in your shoes to understand everything you're going through. But I do think you're dealing with depression…about the accident, and that scar on your forehead. And the worst thing you can do right now is isolate yourself. There's nothing wrong with feeling sad and grieving. But you have to start trying to move on from that. I'm gonna help you as much as I can. At first, you'll just be going through the motions…but if you start trying to do regular, day-to-day stuff again, you _will_ eventually feel better, Blair. Trust me on this."

Blair's eyes narrowed and darkened. "Thank you, Jo, for that _condescending_ lecture. You've been working at the center for what, six months? And now you're suddenly qualified to walk in here, diagnose me, and suggest a course of treatment? Well, _I_ have a suggestion for _you_. Mind your own business and leave me alone!"

Jo did her best to brush aside the stinging comments, persisting in her attempt to get through to the blonde. "Blair, it isn't just me. Natalie, Tootie, Beverly Ann, Casey…even Andy and Pippa…they all see what's going on. Everyone's worried about you."

"At least _they_ respect my right to privacy, and are allowing me to make my own decisions!" Blair fired back, loudly. "Stop treating me like a _child_!"

Jo's temper flared, and she gave into it. "You're _actin'_ like one!" she yelled, her Bronx accent becoming more pronounced, as it often did when she was experiencing intense feelings. "Ya wanna spend the rest of your life sittin' up here, feelin' sorry for yourself over a stupid scar on your head? Fine! I'll leave ya alone, Blair… _permanently_!" She turned and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her as hard as she could, leaving it rattling on its hinges.

Jo was met downstairs by her dismayed housemates, including Tootie, who had just returned home from a late post-rehearsal dinner with her theatre friends.

"That seems to have gone well," Natalie deadpanned.

"Drop it, Nat," Jo warned with a glare. "I'm sleepin' down here tonight."

"Just as long as there's no more yelling and slamming doors," Beverly Ann scolded. "Andy and Pippa have school tomorrow."

"Sorry, Beverly Ann," Jo responded. "I just can't deal with Blair right now."

"Maybe it's good for you two to have a little space," Tootie suggested, gingerly patting Jo's shoulder. "You've been around each other practically 24/7. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Let's face it, Jo, it's you and Blair," Natalie added, as Tootie nodded in agreement.

"I'll check on the kids, and get you a pillow and blanket, Jo," Beverly Ann offered.

"Thanks," Jo replied.

The brunette sat slumped on the sofa as her housemates dispersed, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She'd always had an explosive temper, and she guessed it was something she'd struggle with for the rest of her life. However, Jo had learned about anger management techniques through her training at the community center, and she'd been using those skills to better control her notoriously big emotions. She'd never allow a client to get to her the way Blair had. That said, Blair wasn't a client – and she seemed to have a knack for bringing out both the best and the worst in Jo.

" _She's a stubborn, spoiled, pig-headed…"_ Jo thought, starting to feel the righteous anger rise again. Then she recognized what she was doing, and stopped herself, taking a few deep breaths.

"Here, Jo," came a voice behind her. Jo turned to see Beverly Ann standing nearby with a pillow and blanket under one arm, and a cup of fresh, hot cocoa in her other hand. "The girls and I made some cocoa, and I thought you could use some."

The gesture reminded Jo very much of something Beverly Ann's sister, Mrs. Garrett, would do. Jo looked up at the older woman with remorse and sadness in her eyes. Beverly Ann could be a bit flighty, but her heart was in the right place. Smiling and nodding, Jo gratefully took the cup as Beverly Ann set the bedding down on the end of the sofa and lightly squeezed the brunette's arm. "It's going to be alright, Jo. You'll feel better in the morning."


	3. Chapter 3

**No Less Than Perfect**

By DarkHorse

Chapter 3

 _It was a gorgeous spring afternoon, and Jo could feel the sunlight streaming through the trees and warming her face. She glanced at the familiar Art Deco building nearby, and immediately knew she was in Crotona Park in the Bronx - a peaceful sanctuary to which she'd occasionally escape as a kid. Jo suddenly felt giddy, and a warmth spread through her chest as someone grabbed her hand. She couldn't make out who it was, but there were smiles, and laughter, and she could feel herself smiling, too. She and her companion embraced, and she was treated to a wonderfully exhilarating kiss. As their lips parted, she pulled back to look at her companion's face, and was startled by a very familiar pair of warm, brown eyes looking back at her._

Jo gasped, her eyes opening and darting about as she tried to make sense of where she was. It took her a few seconds to realize that she had been dreaming, and that she was waking up on the living room sofa of the home she shared with her friends in Peekskill. The details of the dream were already beginning to fade, but she easily recalled the thrill of receiving that kiss…as well as who had been doing the kissing.

She ran a hand through her hair and briefly shut her eyes again. _"Wow,"_ she thought groggily. _"Maybe it was Rick all along, and he morphed into Blair at the very end?"_ Yet, even as that thought formed, she knew it wasn't true. _"Doesn't matter… just a dream…"_ Jo hugged her pillow, and drifted off once more.

Only a moment later, it seemed, a voice was calling to her. "Jo?"

"Gimme a minute," she mumbled, struggling to wake up.

"Jo?" came the voice again, louder this time. "Are you planning to sleep all day?"

There was no mistaking whose voice it was. Jo felt quite awake now, and her eyes flew open to see Blair standing beside the sofa. "Blair? What are you doing down here?"

"Well, good morning to you, too," Blair replied drolly. "Breakfast is nearly ready. I suggest you go freshen up…or at least have a breath mint…and meet me at the table." She turned and hobbled back to the kitchen, as Jo looked after her with a dazed and incredulous expression.

" _What the hell?"_ thought Jo. They'd just had an epic blow-up the night before, and now Blair had not only made it downstairs on her own, but was treating her to breakfast? Jo wasn't sure what the blonde was up to, but she complied and went upstairs, where she quickly made herself presentable. On her way back down, she saw Blair rolling their breakfast into the room on one of the utility carts from their former store, Over Our Heads.

Jo watched as Blair, moving slowly and a little stiffly, struggled with transferring items from the cart to the table. The blonde seemed to be making an honest attempt at smoothing things over, so Jo chose to meet her halfway. "Need some help?"

"Sure," Blair said with a smile. "Thank you, Jo."

"Mmmm, this smells great," Jo commented, as she picked up a platter.

"Cinnamon French toast," Blair confirmed.

Moments later, when they were seated and with everything on the table, Jo poured a cup of coffee for Blair and one for herself. "When did you have time to make all this? Did I really sleep that long?"

"Yes, you did. Everyone else left over an hour ago. They tried to be quiet, but I suspect they could've been as noisy as they liked. You were dead to the world."

"Apparently so," the brunette reasoned. She took a bite of syrup-laden French toast. "This is really good…thanks for doing this."

"It's the least I could do, Jo. You've been taking care of me all this time. And I've decided it's about time I started doing something to help myself."

At Blair's earnest response, Jo felt a wave of guilt crash into her. "Uh…Blair…about last night," she began hesitantly. "Look…I'm sorry for yelling at you. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

Blair cast her eyes downward, gathering her thoughts, then looked up to meet Jo's gaze. "We _both_ lost our tempers…and I'm sorry, too, Jo. I knew you were trying to help, but I didn't want to hear it. Now don't get used to me saying this, but you were right about me."

"Maybe," Jo allowed. "But I could've handled it better. Depression isn't something you can just decide to get over." She paused, taking a sip of coffee, and went on. "You did great this morning, but don't try to push yourself too hard or too fast. And I'm not goin' anywhere. I'll be right here with you, until you feel like yourself again."

Blair smiled – a dazzling, genuine, ear-to-ear smile, which lit up her beautiful face.

Jo grinned back at her in delight, experiencing an odd sensation of butterflies in her stomach as she did so.

"Well, _I'm_ taking another piece of French toast," Blair announced, reaching for the platter. "I'm so hungry!"

The brunette laughed, and speared another piece for herself, as well.

* * *

Later that week, Blair sat on her bed in her silk pajamas, poring over the Contract Law lecture notes graciously provided by her professor, when she heard the familiar sound of Jo's boots on the stairs. The brunette had planned to stop by the community center to check in with Casey and the rest of the staff, but she'd been gone longer than expected.

Blair looked up from her work as Jo, clad in a dark blue oversize sweater, black skirt and ankle boots, walked in through their bedroom door, carrying a set of thick folders under her left arm.

"You're home late," Blair remarked. "Did you end up getting pulled into a project?"

"No, I stopped at Langley on my way home. Your Torts professor has late office hours tonight, and she had your lecture notes ready. I also picked up an outline of a moot court brief from your study group."

"You didn't have to do that," Blair replied. "But thanks." She smiled up at Jo from under her thick lashes, and her fingertips trailed lightly over the side of Jo's hand as she reached out to accept the folders.

At the blonde's touch, an unbidden memory surfaced in Jo's mind.

 _A big grin spread over Blair's face as she eyed Jo, who had just walked downstairs dressed in an elegant black tuxedo with tails. The tux was Jo's attire for the "Opposite Dance" she was planning to attend with Rick, who would be wearing an evening dress._

" _Hey, sailor," Blair greeted her, teasingly running her fingers along the length of Jo's arm. "I like the cut of your jib."_

Jo felt her face suddenly grow warm as she recalled the incident, and tried to turn away, but her blush hadn't gone unnoticed.

"You look flushed, Jo. Why don't you sit down for a few minutes?" Blair suggested, patting the side of her bed.

Jo fumbled for an explanation. "Uh…must've been all that runnin' around." She gave Blair a tight-lipped smile, and sat on the edge of the bed, desperate to change the subject. "So…how's the studying going?"

"Pretty well," Blair answered. "Though I could use a break." The blonde rubbed her neck and stretched slightly. "I think I'm ready to go back to school next week."

"That's good. Your professors will be happy to have you back in class. Every last one of 'em said you're one of their best students."

"That was nice of them, though I'll admit, I'm still concerned about having to play catch-up. I may have to take a hit on my next set of exams, and just do my best to make up for it the rest of the semester."

"I know you'll do your best, and I think your grades will reflect it," Jo told her seriously.

"Thanks. I certainly hope so."

"How's everything else going, Blair? You know," Jo lightly tapped her own forehead to indicate she was referencing Blair's scar. "Have you thought about talking with someone who might be able to help? Someone besides me?"

Jo knew that, despite the recent improvements in Blair's mood and activity level, the heiress still needed to work through her feelings about the scar and its impact upon her self-image. In the days following their argument, Jo had realized that she was too close to the situation to be the objective counselor Blair needed, and she'd been gently encouraging the blonde to consider pursuing professional therapy.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Blair replied. "I called Sandy this afternoon, and I have my first meeting with her next Tuesday. We're going to set up weekly sessions around my classes." Sandy was a licensed clinical social worker at the community center who led therapy groups and conducted individual counseling sessions, in addition to serving as Jo's mentor and instructor.

"Heh. I figured you'd pick some fancy psychologist, sittin' behind a mahogany desk," Jo teased.

"If it were up to Mother, I'm sure I'd be seeing someone she or one of her friends recommended. But in this case, it's not up to her. Besides," Blair added with a smile and a pointed look at the brunette, "the Community Center has some great people working there."

Once again, Jo felt her cheeks begin to flush as she met the blonde's gaze. "Sandy really is great. I'm learning a lot from her."

"You _do_ look peculiar, Jo," Blair remarked, peering intently at her roommate. "More so than usual," she added, with a bit of a smirk. "I think you've been overextending yourself. Why don't you relax tomorrow, and spend some time with Rick? You two _are_ still dating, aren't you?"

"Yeah, of course we are," Jo replied, a touch defensively. "We've both had a lot of stuff going on lately, that's all."

"And most of that _stuff_ has been related to me," Blair countered. "I want you to promise me that you'll go out and do something fun…with Rick, or with Tootie or Natalie, or even on your own. Don't worry about me…I'll be fine."

"I'm fine too, Blair. And I told you I'd be here for you until you felt like yourself again. I meant it."

"Jo, it's not that I don't appreciate everything you've been doing for me. It's just that…well, Casey and I have plans tomorrow night. He's going to make me dinner at his place, and we'll rent a movie."

For a fleeting moment, a troubled look passed over Jo's face. Her gut knotted up into a ball at the mention of Casey's name, and she felt like a hypocrite for it. Hadn't she been the one pushing Blair to get back into a normal routine, which included spending time with Casey? Yet she couldn't push away the feeling of disgust - and something else, something deeper – that emerged whenever she was forced to think of Blair and Casey together.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Blair asked, feeling an odd twinge of guilt at the expression that had crossed Jo's face. "I can cancel with Casey. I should probably spend that time studying, anyway."

"No, Blair, don't do that. It'll be good for you to get out for a while." Jo took a deep breath, and sighed audibly as she exhaled. "You're right, I probably just need some rest."

"Alright. Well, I'd better get back to work. Would you like me to study downstairs, so you can sleep?"

"That's okay. I'm gonna go watch TV for a while."

Jo headed down to the living room, only to find Andy and Pippa engrossed in watching an old _Twilight Zone_ rerun, clearly having finished their homework for the evening. Their school books and papers were spread across the dining room table, and Jo could hear Beverly Ann rustling around in the kitchen.

"Hey, Jo," Pippa called out. "How's Blair doing?"

"Pretty good," the brunette replied, plopping down in the arm chair next to the sofa. "She's studying for her Contract Law class. Mind if I watch with you?"

"Sure," Andy replied. "Want some?" He offered her a bowl of Doritos on which he and Pippa had been snacking.

"No thanks, I'm good." Jo waved him off with a smile.

The _Twilight Zone_ episode was one Jo had seen a few times before, about a group of strangers confined in a cylindrical prison with high walls. Having no idea why they were there, and no apparent means of escape, the group was resigned to their fate, with the exception of one man, who encouraged them to work together in an attempt to gain their freedom. The brunette wouldn't spoil the ending for her young housemates, but she knew that the trapped individuals, in summoning the courage to challenge their own perceptions of themselves and the nature of their existence, would finally discover who they truly were.

Jo felt, rather uneasily, that she could relate a little too well to the characters' situation. The night of the accident, when she thought she might lose Blair forever, had driven home just how much the blonde really meant to her. Spending so much one-on-one time with Blair lately, taking care of her, and then having Blair look out for Jo's well-being in return, had awakened something within the Bronx native. It was something that had been nagging around the edges for God knew how long, something that she had only ever acknowledged with the "not me" part of herself.

Then there was the dream. Yes, it was only a dream, she reasoned, a narrative that her subconscious mind had perhaps cobbled together from recent events. However, she couldn't stop thinking about it. The feel of Blair in her arms, the almost unbearable joy, the excitement she felt at the kiss…all of it felt achingly real.

* * *

The following day, Jo worked her shift at the community center, grateful that Casey wasn't scheduled. She didn't want to have to spend any more time around him than absolutely necessary. It wasn't his fault, and she knew it wasn't fair, but it was how she felt. She also hoped to be out of the house by the time Casey came over that evening. To that end, Jo had called Rick during her lunch break, and had made plans to meet him at his place.

After her shift ended, Jo returned home, tired from another busy day. She was surprised to see a brand new, white Lamborghini Spyder sitting in the driveway, and she pulled her motorcycle close beside it, pausing for a moment to admire the vehicle's sleek design and promise of power. Minutes later, as she walked upstairs, she heard the shower running in the bathroom, and assumed she'd have a long wait before she could take her turn. _"Blair's back to her old tricks_ ," Jo thought, shaking her head slightly in amusement.

However, as Jo entered her bedroom, she was surprised to find Blair already showered and dressed. The blonde was seated at her dressing table, peering into the mirror as she applied the finishing touches to her hair and makeup.

"Nice car," Jo remarked.

"Do you like it?" Blair asked excitedly, with her back to Jo. "I had the dealership deliver it this morning. I'll need a car for school next week, of course, and since Casey is cooking dinner tonight, I couldn't expect him to pick me up."

" _Oh."_ Jo mentally slapped herself for not thinking it through. _"Guess I didn't need to be somewhere else tonight after all."_ Aloud, she said, "Will you be okay driving over there?" She knew Blair would need to get back behind the wheel eventually, but was concerned about whether the blonde might freeze up while driving the same route that she had on the night of the accident.

"I know what you're thinking," Blair replied. "I assure you, I'll be very careful, and if I'm feeling the least bit tired, I'll have a cup of coffee before I drive home. Besides, I have no memory of the accident itself, since I was asleep at the time. I'll be okay, Jo."

"I know that," Jo said, her own memories of that night replaying in her mind. The brunette bowed her head and shuffled her feet. "But I'm glad to hear you say it."

Blair stood up, turned around, and smiled brightly at her friend.

This was the first time since the accident that Jo had seen Blair dressed up for a date, and the brunette was momentarily rendered speechless. Heels were still off-limits for the heiress, until the lingering stiffness in her back and legs was completely gone. In lieu of a dress, Blair had opted for a classic look – striped button-down shirt, navy blazer, jeans and boots. She had left the top two buttons of her shirt unbuttoned, and, taking a page out of Jo's book, had added a thin, silk necktie, loosely knotted just below where the shirt was open. Blair's golden-blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, and cascaded around her face and shoulders. The thin white scar on her forehead did not detract from her beauty in the slightest. Blair was radiant, and as Jo gazed at her, she felt strong emotions welling up inside herself.

"Blair," Jo breathed, swallowing hard. "You look beautiful."

The blonde's smile widened as she closed the distance between them, capturing Jo in a big hug. "Thank you, Jo."

The brunette wasn't the touchy-feely type, and usually resisted any displays of affection from Blair, who had a natural affinity for touch when interacting with others. This time, however, Jo let herself melt into the hug, and pulled her arms around the heiress in return. That same, delicious feeling from her dream was back, and Jo grew almost dizzyingly lightheaded.

" _God,"_ Jo thought, as the realization hit home. _"I love her."_

Blair gently disengaged from the hug after a few moments. "Well, I'm off. I need to stop by the video store first, and I don't want to keep Casey waiting."

"Yeah. I need to get ready myself. I'm going over to Rick's," Jo heard herself reply.

"Have fun tonight, Jo. See you later." Blair waved goodbye as she started carefully down the stairs.

Jo went to the window, watching silently until Blair pulled away in her new car. She was sufficiently preoccupied that she didn't hear Natalie walk into the room and approach her.

"Awesome car, huh? Nothing but the best for our Blair," Natalie remarked. Jo jumped, and turned to see her damp-haired roommate, clad in a bathrobe, standing just behind her, peering out the window over her shoulder. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Tootie and I are going to grab dinner and then check out that new dance club on Bank Street. Want to join us?"

"Thanks, but I'm going over to Rick's," Jo replied.

"Say no more. No club can compete with that," Natalie teased with a wink, as she turned and headed into the adjoining attic bedroom she shared with Tootie.

Jo put on a smile, but inwardly, all she could think about was Blair. The brunette walked into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and leaned against the sink, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror. _"What the hell am I going to do?"_


End file.
